our suns were the fluorescent lightbulbs that lined those ceilings in little rows
clouds known as ceiling tiles
and days passed under that sun
we grew up and we grew up fast
the girls told secrets by the lockers
the desks
the water fountains
and the boys left marks on Susie’s neck that we could all see
despite her mother’s Maybelline
and Tom started smoking Marlboros
so I smoked them too
and that night on the rooftop near Main
you told me I had talisman eyes
and we made choices we could never take back
and thats okay
and that hurts
and we all hurt
k.s.

But what I miss the most
Is the way you'd hold me to your face
And unintentionally tickle my cheek with your lashes,
Squeeze me like a tired sigh.
The way you'd breathe me in,
Telling me I smell like 1929,
As I'd close my eyes and smile,
Finally knowing what heaven is like.